Page 247 of On His Team

Lucy reaches over and removes one of the Camden sweatshirts from my pile. “You still do not need three of these.”

I grab it back. “Don’t touch my emotional-support sweatshirts.”

That makes her laugh.

And I laugh, too.

The morning we leave, Rowan texts me before seven.

Rowan: You awake?

Me: No.

Rowan: Okay.

Me: Why do you always accept that!?

Rowan: Thought you were sleeping.

Me: I’m awake, Rowan.

Rowan: Okay.

I smile into my pillow.

Me: When do you leave?

Rowan: 9.

Me: When do I see you?

There is a longer pause before he answers.

Rowan: Tonight probably.

Rowan: Family window after dinner.

I read that twice.

Me: Okay.

Rowan: Yeah.

That one word does something to me now that I know him better. With Rowan, yeah can mean I agree, I know, I want that too, I’m nervous, I don’t know what else to say, please stop asking me before I say something stupid. I have learned the difference.

By the time we get to Toledo, I’m tired. The team is staying somewhere else because of tournament logistics. The rest of us are spread between two hotels depending on who booked what first.

Mara opens the door to our room, looks around, and says, “This is aggressively beige.”

“It’s a hotel.”

“They could try.”

Lucy drops her bag near the window. “I’m not letting either of you complain about free breakfast tomorrow.”

“I would never,” I scoff.

Mara looks at me. “You absolutely would.”